


The Princess and the Smuggler

by Nimthiriel



Category: Star Wars Episode V: Empire Strikes Back, Star Wars Original Trilogy, leia - Fandom
Genre: Between Episodes, Bridging Gaps, F/M, breaking up, start of a relationship, they totally had sex, why it’s so weird in Empire Strikes Back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 07:32:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13072128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nimthiriel/pseuds/Nimthiriel
Summary: A look at Han and Leia’s relationship between the end of A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back.





	The Princess and the Smuggler

**Author's Note:**

> I’m convinced that Leia and Han’s relationship started almost immediately after the ceremony at the end of A New Hope. When I look at their interactions in Empire, I see a couple who had a messy breakup that neither of them actually wanted, who already know each other VERY well, and I cannot believe that, in the three years that canonically took place between those movies, they had nothing at all to do with each other. That doesn’t make sense on any level, and it makes the dynamics between them even more nonsensical during Empire Strikes Back. So here is my brief summary of what I think their relationship was likely to look like before they ended up on Hoth.

Leila was no stranger to grief. During her life, she had experienced a lot of it, and she knew that there would be plenty more. Such is war. But there was some grief that she was neither prepared for nor willing to risk, and she was determined to draw a line here, today, with Han.

After the destruction of her entire home planet, Leia had little time to grieve. Once she was back in that cell, she shed some tears during the lengthy solitude that she was left with, but she then did what she had been taught to do since before she was even a teenager: put on her game face. _As long as you are living and breathing and thinking, the battle isn’t over._ She knew that there was more to come, and she had a fair guess at what it was likely to be: she’d shown that she couldn’t be tortured and that truth serum wouldn’t work on her, and her planet, along with everyone that could be useful to the Empire, had been destroyed, meaning that she was no longer a hostage of any great value. For now they seemed content to just leave her in her cell, but it wouldn’t be long before they decided that she was using up their valuable resources and disposed of her. So she put on her game face, because she was not going down quietly or easily. She would fight, kick, scream, steal weapons if she could (the more destruction and havoc she could wreak, the better), and if none of that worked she would spit in their faces and insult them so creatively that a new bad language trend would take hold amongst Storm Trooper ranks. Then, as she was resting to prepare for the final battle of her life, the short “Storm Trooper” walked in, and things took an unexpected turn. As soon as she was out of that cell, she put on her boss face. She would finish grieving later, now that there apparently would be a later. For now, there was an entire galaxy that needed her, an entire galaxy of people grieving for the loss of their homes, families, and their entire way of life. She knew all about that, and she wouldn’t let them grieve alone or in vain.

The destruction of the Death Star was an important victory for the Rebel Alliance, but it was just one battle in an ongoing war. Nevertheless, it was so important. It had shown to the Rebel Alliance that they were effective, and that they could do what they needed, no matter how small they may feel at times and no matter how great the challenge may seem. So they celebrated. They took a moment to breathe, to grieve, and to rejoice all at once, and boy, was there rejoicing. After she’d completed her “tour of duty”, which was mercifully small as the Republic delegates had come to the ceremony for the three newest Alliance members, Leia took her joy and her sorrow into her own hands, and Han didn’t quite know what had hit him. Their affair wasn’t a silent one where sex just happened and neither of them talked about it. Although he wasn’t her first lover, in recent times Leia had been overworked and overwhelmed and over scheduled, particularly when she found out about the campaign (more like suicide mission, she was devastated to learn) to get the Death Star plans, so her mind had been turned to work rather than leisure. Even a healthy balance of the two was out of the question during that time.

She told Han this over drinks in her lounge, and was mildly surprised that this man who would brag about his smuggling exploits and how good his ship was would be honest about how long it had been for him, as well. Smuggling is rarely conducive to familial relationships, and even the odd fling in a local space port loses its sheen after a time. So with that conversation out of the way, they took it slowly. They chatted for a couple of hours over drinks, they sat close as they shared stories, and when they finally kissed it was all the better for the comfort that had grown between them. The sex was shy, a little awkward when belts got stuck and boots didn’t quite want to come off, but by the third time they had the hang of things and it was as explosive as the engine of that damned spaceship.

It was never official that they were sleeping together, but it wasn’t hidden either. Leia was still a princess, and there were things about royalty that you just accepted and built into your routine, if you were working for them. It was just accepted, without the slightest pause, that Han would now be spending most of his nights in Leia’s chamber. His was left untouched, but Han realised that he may as well stop trying to sneak his way back to his own once the second set of dental and other hygiene supplies had appeared in her bathroom without either of them requesting it, and in a different colour to ensure that it was clear there wasn’t an error with maintaining Leia’s. Once the surprise and embarrassment (mostly Han’s) had worn off, they laughed about the efficiency of the house-keeping spy network, and that maybe those skills were being wasted on domesticity when they could be spying on the Empire for them.

Leia and Han weren’t together every night: there were shifts to be worked, there were times when solitude was necessary, and when Leia’s job as a diplomat required her to host leaders and be part of negotiations, which Han had no desire to be part of, although he did enjoy hearing her tell him stories of how she bested them at their own game. It was times like that that he felt such affection for her, he wanted to hug her and kiss her and tell her how incredibly proud he was of her, and so he did. There were a lot of laughs between them during those months, and both of them wondered if this is how their lives would be forever, if the war had actually been done. It was this thought that always stirred in Leia when she and Han separated to perform their various duties.

Having Han had helped her with her grieving for all the losses she’d suffered, and he had been a tremendous comfort to her during the nights when she cried for hours, or woke up gasping for air from the dreams which she knew were part of surviving a war, but she wished would leave her alone already. He did the one thing you would never imagine Han doing, but it was just like what Leia did: he listened. Being a smuggler, he was surprisingly good at listening, and even better at hearing what was said and what wasn’t. She had come to see him as more than just a fly boy who cared for no one, but as someone who was cunning and intelligent, and able to assess a situation and work a way to deal with it. Not always the best or most tactful way, mind you, but a way. He learned quickly what she needed during those bad, bad nights, and he did exactly that. She was so grateful, but that made it harder to do what she knew she had to do.

Word had recently reached them that the ice deserts of Hoth would be suitable for a base, and that there were abandoned structures there from whatever disaster had caused them to be abandoned in the first place. The drones and scouts had reported that it was safe enough if you weren’t caught in a snow storm, and the TaunTauns were intelligent and friendly enough to be trained quickly, and strong enough to be mounted. They would fare far better in the snow than most of their vehicles, despite their need for food; they were excellent at finding safe paths on that terrain and and their feet were perfect for even the freshest, softest powdered snow. The abandoned base could be restored quickly, and they would be heading there soon. Leia, Han and Luke were all to go to Hoth and to work from there for the time being, as the Empire continued to regroup. While the Republic had been creating new ties and strengthening old ones, the Empire had not been cowering and licking their wounds, satisfying though that might be.

While there were many advantages to Leia and Han’s relationship not being officially acknowledged, there were also some drawbacks. On the one hand, their joint needs were taken care of without the need to say anything to anyone, and they were rarely apart on separate ships or planets for very long as their schedules just seemed to match up without either of them having to make any changes. On the other hand, because it wasn’t official, she had no reason to object to them being stationed together on Hoth, and by the time she had resolved to end it, it was too late to request that either one of them be transferred, as their roles for that base had been clearly planned and outlined, and it would be difficult to find a suitable replacement for either of them. There was also Han and Luke’s friendship to bear in mind, as those two had become incredibly close after many shared near-death experiences. So she accepted that there would be awkwardness, and she would deal with it as best she could, taking each situation as it came. When Han knocked on her door, she put on her game face.

Han had known something was going on that he hadn’t been informed of, and she could tell by the expression on his face when he walked in. It was earnest but wary, and ready to change to whatever it needed to be once the situation was revealed. They had fought before, so she knew how this was likely to look and feel, but, understandably, she dreaded this fight more than any other. She tried to broach the subject delicately, but he was having none of it: he knew she had something more important to say, and he wasn’t going to let her skirt around it like he was one of her diplomats that she needed to placate and wheedle around. After some raised voices and a gradual buildup of frustration, she lowered her gaze and quietly said, “I can’t do this any more.”  
“Do what? What can’t you do any more? The war? The role?” A terrifying pause, and then, quietly, “Me?”

She couldn’t look at him, and he straightened up with that hurt look on his face that she knew so well. “It’s me, isn’t it? That’s what you’re saying. Well, then, say it. Say that it’s me, and say that it’s over. Go on.” Leia knew he was calling her bluff, but she couldn’t bring herself to lie to his face and she couldn’t bear to tell him the truth. What a joke: not being able to lie to someone who lies and steals and deceives for a living. But this was different: this wasn’t business; this was them. And it hurt like hell. “You should go,” she said, “Your shift starts in half an hour.” And there it was: that petulant look he gets when something doesn’t go how he wanted it to, and he knows it’s unfair, but he also knows that he isn’t going to win this round. “Of course, _Princess._ We wouldn’t want this to get in the way of something actually important, like being _punctual_ for a _shift._ ” With the tiniest of pauses, giving her a chance to say something while he himself couldn’t think of anything more to say, he turned on his heel and walked out of her chamber. Leia bit back the tears, but some managed to escape and bring a couple of sobs with them. She took a deep, deep breath, and then another, and put her game face back on. There would be time for grief later, and this way they would grieve for each other less if and when one of them was killed. She couldn’t lose another person; she couldn’t lose this person. Well, she had lost him now, willingly. She would grieve this ending later, just like every other ending she had grieved. Such is war.

Hoth would be difficult, and probably more difficult for Han than for her, but she would do her best to make sure that any closeness they had didn’t draw them back to each other. It would be so difficult, but it was necessary. This was war, and there was no time for love when you’re in a war. Love was something she would tentatively accept when the war was over and there was peace, and space, and time. This was not the time.

 


End file.
